


You Can Only Save Yourself

by geneviverusset



Category: Starfighter (Comic)
Genre: M/M, sick!Keeler
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-12
Updated: 2013-02-28
Packaged: 2017-11-29 00:44:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/680735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geneviverusset/pseuds/geneviverusset
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone wants to be a hero. But sometimes you have to remember the only one you can truly save is yourself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Icarus and Polonius belong to me, everyone else belongs to the goddess called HamletMachine.
> 
> Tags and rating for this story will be added as I write the story. I'm not sure what I want to write and so I don't want to put up false tags.
> 
> So here is the first part of my first ever SF fan fic. I haven’t written anything for publishing in a VERY long time. So fair warning, it might suck. It’s also ridiculously heavy on the dialogue. I tend to hear scenes when I write.
> 
> I’m not sure quite where i am going with this so I’m vague on the warnings for now. I foresee some serious feels, porny goodness and possible character death, but we will worry about that when we get there. This first part has sick!Keeler and hurt!Ethos despite the fact it’s less than 650 words long. There is also an OC by the name of Icarus whom I hope you won’t hate too much.
> 
> This story starts the day after Sleipnir docks at the station.

“Ok, you can sit back up now.”

Keeler sat up and reached for his t-shirt. Why did it always have to be so cold on the ship? He shivered. Pulling on his jacket, Keeler glanced over at the images flashing across the computer screen. “How does it look, Icarus?”

The medic pointed to one of the pictures. “There is some wear and tear near this valve, more than there should be this soon after the procedure. This suggests that your heart hasn't had a chance to heal properly. Have you been taking it easy like I told you to? Stayed away from the caffeine and stimulants?”

Keeler twisted the end of his braid around his finger. Things had been hectic lately on the Sleipnir. Hell, they still were. Everyone was working extra hard to prepare for the upcoming launch. Keeler couldn't remember the last time he'd had a proper meal or more than a few hours of sleep.

Icarus frowned. “I know you want to be everywhere and do everything, but I'm sure you will agree with me when I tell you that you are no good to anyone if you are dead. And dead is what you are going to be if you don't start taking care of yourself.”

Keeler nodded, knowing Icarus was right. But then he froze. “You are still going to keep this between us?”

“For now,” Icarus replied, his face serious. “But if I find out that you are neglecting your health again, I'm going to report you to Cook.” He softened a bit and put a hand on Keeler's shoulder. “You are a great navigator and your men respect and admire you. Do yourself and them a favor and get a hot meal and some sleep.”

Keeler made to leave the medical bay when he spotted Encke coming down the hall outside. Quickly he turned back to Icarus. “You will let me know if his condition changes?” Keeler asked just as Encke walked in.

“Of course. Encke, are you here to see Ethos as well? There was no hint in either of their voices that would indicate anything out of the ordinary had happened.

“Yes,” Encke answered. “How is he?”

“Like I finished telling Keeler, nothing too serious but he won't be in fighting shape for awhile. Three broken ribs and a compound arm fracture are the worst of it. The mild concussion should be gone in a few days.

Encke cursed under his breath, his hands clenched into fists. “That son of a bitch, Tavros, won't see the outside of the brig until we land if I have my way.” He exhaled sharply as if he was trying to rid himself of the negative energy. “How long until we can get him back on active duty?”

“About 8 weeks as it stands right now.”

Encke nodded curtly, “Thank you, Icarus.” He turned to leave. “Keeler, a word”

Keeler followed Encke out into the corridor. 

Encke had his fingers pressed against the bridge of his nose. “What are we going to do with a navigator that is out of commission for 2 months? We can't afford to go back to the station.”

“He might not be able to get back in a ship but we could use a fresh pair of eyes on the engine detail. Ethos is bright and shows promise despite his age. Once he is up and about we can have him in the nav center running numbers.”

“Good. I will see you at the task meeting at 15:00 then. Oh, and Keeler-,”

Keeler was already several feet from the door when he looked back at Encke.

“Eat something, would you? You look dead on your feet.”

“Sure,” Keeler said with a non-committal wave as he left.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cain meets someone from his past that he never expected or wanted to see again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Encke is also known as Eight, thanks to SC's Basic series.  
> Polonius is just a random jerkface I made up. (Polonius is killed by Hamlet in Shakespeare's play. *giggle*)

Cain caught Deimos' gaze out of the corner of his eye and knew he was just as surprised to see the Sleipnir's lead fighter as Cain was. He had thought that when Eight had been assigned to a different unit after basic that was going to be the last he saw of him. But here he was, standing in front of them. He had a new name now, Encke. Everything else, however, seemed the same. It was if the fates had conspired against him. If going on a suicide into enemy space wasn't enough he was now working under the bastard personally responsible for making his last weeks of basic training a living nightmare.

The longer Cain looked up at Encke, the more he wanted to punch something. And since the object of his loathing was now his new commanding officer, some other sucker was probably going to end up on the other side of his fist. It wasn't like there was going to be a shortage of people willing to pick a fight. With the large influx of new crew members tensions and tempers would be at an all time high, fighters trying to prove themselves with their fists. Sure enough, just as the briefing ended, Cain caught mention of the empty block on E deck and how some guy named Polonius had a score to settle.

~

It smelled like sweat, smoke, and testosterone. Shouts and jeers echoed harshly off the steel. This was exactly where he wanted to be. In the center of the crowd, two men were grappling, the shorter one sporting a cut lip. The noise level rose as the smaller one hit the ground. Victorious, the remaining fighter punched his fist in the air. “Alright, who's next.”

“I am,” Cain called above the din.

“Ah, fresh meat,” the fighter smirked. “Come on down, new kid.”

Cain bristled at being called a child but let it slide. He was going to have his fist in that guy's face soon enough.

“What's your name, soldier?” The fighter's voice was thick with fake politeness.

“Cain,” he ground out, just wanting to get to the good part.

The fighter's eyebrows raised in recognition. “I heard about you. You're Bering's little bitch.”

Cain's fist collided with the fighter's jaw. The fighter took a step back, the punch setting him off guard. But he recovered quickly and Cain had to block his right cross.

“Scrappy thing, ain't he, Polonius?” Someone called out from near by.

The fighter took a swipe at Cain, making contact with his nose. “Not bad for tsygan filth.” Polonius moved to strike again but Cain lunged forward and drove his knee into the fighter's gut. Doubled over, the fighter fell to the floor. Cain stood over him, poised to hit the same spot with his foot when a voice rose up over the crowd.

“Guards!”

At once, everyone was moving, rushing to the exits. Cain wasn't about to let Polonius go that easy. He drew back his fist, watching the fighter struggle to get to his feet. But then someone put a hand on his arm, trying to lead him away. Cain twisted to   
see who had hold of him. "Deimos, what the..." 

The shrill sound of a whistle and the stomping of boots cut him off mid sentence and they bolted down the near by hall. It wasn't until they reached the residence sector that they slowed their pace to a walk. "That was close," Cain said, still enjoying the endorphins from the fight. He stopped at the door of the room he shared with Abel. Looking up, he saw Deimos staring at him. "What?"

Deimos reached a finger to gently graze Cain's upper lip, touching the blood dripping from his nose and holding it up for him to see.

"Shit." Cain pulled up his shirt and wiped his face with it. He winced. "Not broken," he thought as he checked his nose. Still, it would need some ice if he didn't want it looking like his babushka's borscht. The last thing he needed was for Encke to see him with a swollen nose less than thirty six hours after he had boarded the ship.

~

Cain opened the door to the compartment he shared with his navigator to find Abel sitting on the bottom bunk completely engrossed with something on his tablet. “What's up princess? Wasn't expecting you back so early,” Cain said as he kicked off his boots.

“Just reading this...” Abel broke off mid-sentence as he looked up and saw Cain standing there with blood on his shirt and face. “What happened to you?

"It's nothing." He turned away to grab a clean shirt from the dresser.

"It's not nothing, Cain. You're bleeding," Abel said as he ran one of the washcloths under cold water. "Just let me look at it. My mom is a nurse."

Abel reached the cloth up to Cain's nose but Cain grabbed his wrist and shoved Abel back hard into the bed. "I said it was nothing." He didn't need Abel hovering over him like his mother. Cain was perfectly capable of taking care of himself. He had been doing it for years. Grabbing a towel, Cain trudged to the bathroom and closed the door.

~

Cain put his head under the stream of scalding water, hissing slightly at the pain. He never wanted to be here in the first place. True, there had been a time when all he wanted was to be stationed with Encke. Hell, their had even been a time he would have gone so far as to call Encke his friend. Of course, that was before Encke threw him to the curb like a piece of trash for something that wasn't even his fault. Something he never wanted or asked for.

Rinsing the soap off, Cain shut off the water and ran the towel vigorously over his wet hair. Abel had volunteered them for this suicide mission that would take a miracle to survive. A large part of him wanted to be mad at Abel for doing something so crazy, but Cain knew that if Abel hadn't volunteered Cook and Bering would have found a way to get them on this ship anyway as part of their ridiculous plan. 

He wrapped the towel around his waist and exited the bathroom. Cain rummaged through the drawers for some clean clothes, wincing as the shirt grazed his nose as he pulled it over his head. He looked at Abel still curled up on the bottom bunk with his tablet. Bering said he had to get close to his navigator. Getting as close to Abel as Bering wanted was going to be a difficult if they slept in separate beds. "Get up."

Abel looked up at him, annoyed but obliged. With Abel out of the way, Cain tugged forcefully on the mattress of the top bunk until it came free, doing the same with the bottom one.

"What are you doing?"

Cain tossed both of the mattresses on the ground, lying them next to each other so they made one bigger bed on the floor. "We sleep together."

"Ok." Cain was sure he caught a small grin on Abel's face. And Cain smiled to himself too. Despite everything else, he still had Abel.

For now.


End file.
